


The Long and the Short of it

by lisakodysam



Series: Per Ardua Ad Astra [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Competition, Friend Fiction, Humour, Love Triangle, M/M, Slash, Smut, Spirit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisakodysam/pseuds/lisakodysam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Varric's friend fics that Bethany does <em>not</em> want her brother Fletcher to read.</p><p>Premise: Blondie and Broody compete for Hawke's affections, with varying degrees of success. Complications arise when Justice wants in on the action.</p><p>Expect silliness and lots of big words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had bits of this written for ages and have finally managed to put a first chapter together. The characters in this are from the story Per Ardua Ad Astra, but their tale, in this case, is told by Varric. Updates, as with the main story, may be sporadic for a short while.
> 
> A thousand thanks to the wonderful Mary for agreeing to beta another fic!

The Long and the Short of it: Chapter One

  


By Varric Tethras

Sunshine: By all means feel free to read this, but I strongly advise you to skip pages six, nine and fourteen. Seriously. This _is_ your brother we're talking about, after all.

=========

To Hawke's left sat the tall, lean, long-limbed mage with the long hair. He had a long nose, too. Oh, and a long face. And legs. His coat was also long. Blondie was his name, [well, that wasn't _really_ his name, but for the purposes of _this_ story it is] and, as Hawke watched him from the corner of his eye, he wondered what _else_ was long about Blondie. He surreptitiously glanced at Blondie's boots, noting that he had _damned_ big feet. [Note to self: does it ruin the flow to say 'big'? Should I go with 'long' again, or is that too repetitive?] Anyway, Hawke surmised from the size of Blondie's feet that further investigation of _what else was long about Blondie_ was warranted.

That was, until he glanced to his right: there sat the elf. As tight a ball of brooding, pouting, scowling, menacing magnificence as one was ever likely to see. There was nothing _long_ about the elf; oh, no, everything about him was short, tight, lean and mean. Hawke wagered that once all that repressed sexual energy was unleashed, the elf must fuck like a jackhammer. Hawke cleared his throat with consummate casualness and his eyes veered over to the elf's feet.

A _long_ hand slapped his back sharply as ale exploded from his mouth, drenching the table. Maker, the elf's feet were bigger than Blondie's! And he was a fucking _elf_! All thoughts of _what else is long about Blondie_ disappeared, as Hawke's imagination ran riot over what the size of the _elf's_ feet signified.

"You all right there, Hawke?" Blondie enquired kindly.

"Vine," croaked Hawke, wiping his face on the front of his robe. "…Fine."

"And you say _I_ waste alcoholic beverages?" remarked the elf with a slight sneer.

"You do," Hawke retorted. "You decorate whole walls with yours."

"Whereas you merely wish to adorn a table in a dive pub," the elf said haughtily, and Hawke could swear that the elf's eyebrows waggled. "You should think _bigger_ , Hawke."

 _Oh, I am, mate. Believe you me._

Wait. Had Hawke just thought that or _said_ it?

A hungry glimmer appeared in the elf's eyes and he slowly swept his tongue across his lower lip in a very _talented_ and _experienced_ way.

Hawke swallowed hard and his eyes moved up to meet the elf's, which were limpid pools of placidity [is that actually a word? Ah, what the heck, I like it]. Suffice to say, the elf's eyes had that 'come to bed' look about them. Hawke tried to replicate the look, but wound up going cross-eyed.

"Perhaps you would care to…assist me in redecorating the mansion?" the elf drawled. "My _bedchamber_ has been particularly neglected as of late."

Hawke drained his mug and started to push himself up, but he was stopped by a _long_ hand that grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

"Don't forget you said you'd help me out at the clinic," Blondie cut in. "I was going to teach you a few recipes, remember?"

Hawke screwed his face up, trying desperately to think of an excuse, until Blondie added, "I wanted your opinion on a new massage oil I've been working on, and was hoping you'd test its efficacy. On me."

A quiet 'harumph' was heard to Hawke's right, and he gulped again, his brows knitting together. He shifted slightly, his breeches seeming to fit more snugly than usual. "Erm…I think I'll have another drink," Hawke mumbled, and, standing up, he walked over to the bar, limping slightly.

"Can't you do any better than that?" Blondie mocked the elf. "'Come and see my bedchamber'? Maker, no wonder you're always so uptight. With lines like that, you must not have had sex for a _very_ long time."

"And I suppose _you_ are so prolific?" the elf retorted with a rasping laugh.

"I do just fine, thank you," Blondie answered shortly.

"Oh, really?" scoffed the elf. "Yes… now I see why your right hand is so calloused."

"This is my casting hand!" Blondie claimed heatedly.

"You are forgetting that I have been surrounded by mages for my entire life. There is no such thing as a 'casting hand'," the elf refuted. "Mages use _both_ hands to cast. There is only one thing you use _that_ hand for, and there is no _magic_ involved in the base gratification of one's self."

"Are you calling me a wanker?" Blondie demanded.

"A coarse, if fitting, soubriquet," the elf mused, "though I do not believe there is cause to 'call' you anything; you wear your onanistic tendencies like a badge."

"Takes one to know one," Blondie huffed, pretending to know what the hell the elf was going on about.

~o~O~o~

 _This is an impossible situation_ , Hawke thought irascibly as he sipped at his pint while leaning against the bar. _Why does society have these stupid rules regarding exclusivity? Why can't I just shag both of them, and why can't they be happy with that?_

With a glance over his shoulder, a bright smile from Blondie and a raised eyebrow from the elf greeted him, before they went back to their bickering – no, _posturing_. Hawke was certain that the two of them wouldn't even be sitting next to each other if he wasn't around. Resigning himself to another night with just his _hand_ for company, Hawke drained his mug, sighed and walked back over to the table.

"I'm going to call it a night," he announced reluctantly, eliciting a scowl from the elf but a cheesy grin from Blondie, which was quickly hidden.

"But you _promised_ ," Blondie pouted. "You said you'd help out at the clinic _tonight._ I'm rushed off my feet, Hawke."

The elf's head slowly turned toward Blondie, a nostril twitching in disdain. "Not so rushed off your feet that you couldn't find the time to partake of _six_ ales, though?"

"I'm not a machine, you know!" Blondie protested.

Hawke clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. He knew Blondie had him: he _had_ promised. "Look, I'll just help out for a bit, then," he mumbled, trying to ignore the icy green eyes that drilled into him. [ _Can_ ice be green? Hm…I guess if it formed over grass? Well, I'm keeping it in. This is my damned story and I like the way it sounds.]

The elf slowly rose from his seat, his eyes narrowed, and his expression mordant.

"Er, I'll see you tomorrow, Fen?" Hawke asked nervously.

" _Will_ you?" The elf turned and sailed out of the pub, his nose, despite being put out of joint, high in the air. Well, as high as an elf's nose will go, anyway. Which isn't as high as a human's, I'll grant you, but the elf's snootiness more than makes up for it, trust me.

"That went well," Hawke said glumly, knowing that several batches of shortbread would be needed as a peace offering to his po-faced pal.

"Come on," sang Blondie, his smile threatening to rend his phizog in two. "You know helping out at the clinic always makes you feel better!"

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Hawke agreed.

"After you, my friend," Blondie offered, waving his hand toward the door. Hawke went ahead, thereby failing to notice Blondie rubbing his hands together. He also failed to notice the blue gleam that sprang into Blondie's eyes as they departed.

~o~O~o~

"Erm, Anders?" [This is Hawke's name for Blondie, by the way.] Hawke looked around the clinic, puzzled. It was empty. There wasn't a single refugee to be seen; not that Hawke could actually _see_ that well, as the only light provided came from a few candles that surrounded a cot in the corner. "Where are all the patients?"

"Oh, they must have…recovered," Blondie muttered, closing the door to the clinic behind him and discreetly bolting it. "Which is great, because that gives us time to try out my new massage oil."

Hawke gave Blondie a dubious look. "And what purpose does massage oil serve for a healer?"

Blondie shrugged and started to unfasten his jacket. "Well, you know, in case someone pulls a muscle, sprains themselves. That kind of thing."

"But it would only take a second to treat that with magic," Hawke argued, and then he fell quiet, along with Blondie's jacket, which fell to the floor, revealing his long, lithe torso. Hawke gulped.

"I like to offer my patients a more… _personalised_ service," Blondie purred, and sat down on the cot, removing the stopper from a bottle of fragrant oil. "Come and sit down," he offered. "I want your opinion."

 **Among other things.**

"What was that?" Hawke asked.

"Eh? Oh, nothing!" Blondie chirped. " _Shut up_!" he whispered to himself. " _You're going to ruin it_!"

"Are you…feeling all right, Anders?"

"Yes, yes," Blondie said impatiently, patting the side of the cot. "You're going to need to remove your robe."

A jolt of excitement shot through Hawke, but then the image of the elf popped into his head, and the jolt fizzled out like a cheap firework.

"Look, Anders, I'm tempted and all…" Hawke rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "It's just that you and Fenris both mean a lot to me, and I don't want to upset anyone."

"And how would you be upsetting him?" Blondie cajoled. "You're just helping a friend try out a remedy that will benefit a great many people. If Fenris wants to take it the wrong way, then there's not much we can do about that, is there?"

"Oh, all right." With a groan, Hawke began to undo the ties at the front of his robe, letting them fall to the floor.

 **Good…good.**

"Hm? Whassat?" Hawke mumbled as he shrugged off his robe and placed it on an examination table. Beneath, he wore only breeches and boots.

"Nothing," Blondie replied in a slightly irritated tone. " _I told you to shut it!"_ he hissed.

"You…sure you're ok?" Hawke queried as he sat down next to Blondie, who was already warming some oil between his palms.

"Never better," replied Blondie, who drizzled some of the oil over Hawke's hands, and placed his own hands onto Hawke's chest. "Now, we just start off with nice, light strokes…" He began to run his long fingers up and down Hawke's lightly-furred chest.

"Erm, Anders? I don't think that's really a massage," Hawke said. Blondie took Hawke's hands and placed them onto his own chest.

"We have to start off nice and slow, get the skin used to being touched," Blondie claimed.

"Really?" Hawke asked, a little nervously.

"Like this," whispered Blondie, feathering his fingers along the hairs around Hawke's dark red nipples. Hawke gasped and a shiver travelled along his body. "Now, you do the same." Blondie moved Hawke's fingers, brushing the tips over his own golden brown peaks. "Mmm…that's it," Blondie drawled.

"Er…Anders? I-I…"

"Shh," intoned Blondie, placing an oiled finger over Hawke's lips. "Stop worrying so much. It feels nice, doesn't it?" he whispered, pressing his thumbs against Hawke's hardening nipples.

"I-I suppose it does," breathed Hawke, and, for an instant, something white flashed through his mind, but that image dissolved as Blondie continued his sexy assault, tweaking Hawke between finger and thumb.

"Ooh, Anders…" Hawke moaned, and Blondie grinned triumphantly as Hawke's eyes fluttered closed. "Maker, Anders, you're so good at this…"

 **Verily.**

Hawke jumped back, blinking rapidly as the intoxicating effects of Blondie's ministrations caused his head to swim. "What did you just say?"

"N-nothing," Blondie said shiftily, his eyes flitting around the room.

"You said 'verily'! That's the sort of thing Justice would say!"

"Don't be daft!" Blondie spluttered. "I say 'verily' all the time!"

Hawke folded his arms, scowling. "What does it mean, then?"

"Y-you know, sort of, um…well, it's one of those words that you can't really describe-"

"You don't know what it means! Admit it!" barked an affronted Hawke. "Are you and Justice in on this? Was this the plan, to lure me here and-and…ugh! While Justice _watches_?"

"You're overwrought," Blondie said soothingly, patting Hawke's hand. "I have a draught for that…"

"I want to speak to Justice," Hawke demanded, standing up. " _He's_ not capable of lying. At least I don't think he is."

"Justice is asleep," said Blondie. "It's night time in the Fade."

"Anders, _I'm_ a mage, in case you'd forgotten!" seethed Hawke, infuriated at Blondie's cockamamie claims. "There _is_ no night time in the Fade!"

Blondie pushed himself up, realising that damage limitation was needed, and fast. "Look, Justice will only appear if an act of injustice is committed. Let's just sit down again and _talk_."

"Fine," snapped Hawke, glancing around the clinic. "If an injustice is what it'll take…" He spied one of the many resident cats of Darktown lolling about in a corner, and charged over to it, picking it up by the scruff of the neck. To Blondie's horror, he began to recite a flame spell. [Look, I don't know what its proper name is. Something that would turn the hairball into a fireball, leave it at that.]

" **Relinquish that feline forthwith!"** bellowed an unearthly voice, and the clinic was filled with an eerie blue glow. Hawke immediately cancelled his spell and turned the cat loose.

" _There_ you are," Hawke said, and walked over to the indignant spirit. "I want answers," he demanded. "Did Anders plan to bring me here and seduce me so you could get off on it?"

" **That matters not** ," Justice replied, a slight note of doubt creeping into his voice. " **You were about to harm a helpless animal that had done nothing to merit such an action!** " Justice puffed his chest out, his blue aura strong.

"But I _didn't_ , did I?"

Justice's eyes widened. " **You-you were about to, though…and-and you caused it untold distress by handling it so roughly!"**

Hawke's eyes wandered over to said cat. It sat a short distance away from them with its hind leg pointing straight up in the air, licking its own puckerhole.

"Yes, she looks _really_ distressed, doesn't she?" Hawke scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. His eyes were then caught by a projection that extended off of Justice's aura and he stared, appalled, at the blue wand of light that jutted out from Justice's groin.

"I bloody knew it!" Hawke exclaimed furiously, pointing at the eight-inch rod of ethereal energy. "You were getting off on watching me and Anders…ugh!"

" **That is a spirit sceptre** ," Justice asserted. " **It is used to divine acts of injustice. Only spirits of justice have such an appendage**."

"I'm a fucking mage!" Hawke hissed, throwing his hands up in the air. "You might get away with that with non-mages, but don't even bother with me! A spirit sceptre? I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life!"

" **It-it is unjust to impugn the spirit sceptre** ," Justice proclaimed, his eyes darting from side to side as he shifted his weight.

"Aren't you going to punish me, then?" asked Hawke, cocking his head defiantly, "you know, for doing something unjust?"

" **Um…I feel my aura fading…until we meet again, mortal** ," Justice said to Hawke. " **Anders!** " he whispered.

 _Forget it, mate! This was all your idea, you sort it out! I've just spotted a Fade spirit of a former prostitute. She'll put out._

Justice glanced at Hawke and forced a smile, clearing his throat. " **Anders! Come hither at once!** "

 _No chance. I'm not getting blue balls on your account. I'll only be a couple of minutes._

"Pathetic. Both of you," Hawke spat as he grabbed his robe and hastily tied it, before stomping out of the clinic, leaving Justice with his _own_ set of blue balls. [Hey, that's pretty clever! They were blue anyway!]

As Hawke stepped out of the entrance to Darktown, he failed to notice a flash of white that peeked out from the shadows. He stopped and straightened his robe, securing a few of the ties he'd neglected in his haste. Shaking his head, he released a deep sigh and headed back to the Hanged Man, hoping to find a witty, handsome and charming dwarven friend of his who frequented the pub.

As he left, the flash of white grew bigger and the elf stepped out of the shadows, unsheathing his sword. His nose wrinkled and he bared his teeth as he glared murderously at the doors leading to the undercity.

"Seduce _my_ mage, will you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice makes his desires known to a horrified Blondie, and the elf fails at being a stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the brilliant Mary for another first-class beta!

The elf, who was in full-on _brood_ mode, stalked through the undercity, hissing at the occasional refugee that was unfortunate enough to cross his path, sending them scuttling for cover. He would let _no one_ stand between him and his vital mission of finding Blondie the Usurper and murdering him to death.

Eventually, he reached the outside of the clinic, where he paused [he _has_ to pause, you see; I find the _brooding_ to be more effective as a literary device when he's standing still], his shoulders heaving. With an unnerving smile, he stroked along the length of his sword.

"I will see to it that you never again have the _means_ with which to vitiate _my_ mage, abomination!" he vowed, before his smile turned even deadlier. "As I am feeling generous, however, I will still permit you the use of your tongue, so I may hear your anguished screams." He frowned, then, and his eyes narrowed. "No…he could also use _that_ on _my mage_."

His heart devoid of pity or mercy, he slowly pushed the clinic door open and crept inside. His eyes flitted over to the cot, illuminated by candles.

 _Where that filthy demon debased what should rightfully be mine!_ My _mage._

 _My precious…_

He heard voices, then, and ducked into a shadowy corner, kicking aside a cat that dared attempt to rub itself against his leg. The hapless moggy quickly fled with a displeased _Reowr!_

 **What was that noise?**

" _Oh, nothing; it's just the cats fighting. You should hear them when they're in heat: I have to stuff cotton wool in my ears!"_

 **Once again you evade the matter at hand. When we merged at Vigil's Keep, you promised me "more 'T & A' than I could shake a stick at". Your own words, Anders, and yet, after more than one-and-a-half of your mortal years have passed, the aforementioned mammary glands and anal orifices have yet to materialise.**

" _Yeah, I know, Justice, and I'm sorry. It's just that most people take exception to sharing their bed with_ both _of us. Be patient. Something will come along."_

 **Patient? That is easy for you to say, Anders. Your appetites are sated on a regular basis by the Fade strumpets you insist on cavorting with!**

" _Look, I've told you. They'd be quite happy to see to you, as well. You just need to be a bit friendlier, turn on the charm a bit…"_

 **No. I have subsisted for millennia on the insubstantial favours of Fade libertines. You promised me the experience of _mortal_ love. My righteous seed is amassing at an alarming rate.**

" _I'm trying, all right? But you have to promise to keep your mouth shut! That's not the first time you've scared someone off; I had Hawke right where I wanted him and then you had to charge in with your size nines!"_

 **My size nine what?**

" _Oh, forget it. Look. Just shut your yap the next time, okay?"_

 **Very well. I will refrain from speech in the pursuit of issuing my painfully-abundant seminal humour.**

" _Look…you_ could _just crack one off, you know-"_

 **We have discussed this. I will not indulge in such profane pursuits.**

" _But it would be_ my _hand. I don't mind, honestly."_

 **Silence! I will not be drawn on this topic again. Deliver what you promised, Anders, and all will be well.**

With a satisfied grin, the elf sheathed his sword. Blondie had _not_ been successful in seducing _his_ mage, and there was still time for the elf to claim Hawke for his own!

He knew he should still destroy the abomination [I always cringe when the elf calls Blondie that, but I guess for the sake of realism I have to include it here], if only for the hell of it. However, if Blondie was dead, how could he witness the elf's triumph?

"There is no time to lose," the elf muttered to himself, and he quietly slipped out of the clinic, leaving Blondie and Justice to their discussion. About seed.

~o~O~o~

After a couple more pints at the Hanged Man, Hawke began to feel his spirits lift, thanks also in part to the dazzling and entertaining company of his dwarven chum [who shall remain nameless for the duration of this story. Why? Well, because this particular dwarf is very modest and humble, and I believe he would prefer to remain anonymous].

Just as Hawke was about to call for another round, the doors to the Hanged Man were pushed open, and in glided [glode? Darn it, I'll have to ask the Rivaini to start beta reading for me. No, actually the elf would be a better choice; he's bloody smart. Although…that would mean he'd actually have to _read_ this. The Rivaini it is, then] the elf. Hawke shot up from his chair and pushed through the crowd to reach him, all apologetic and everything.

"Fen? Are you okay?" he asked, gritting his teeth and wringing his hands. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier, it's just-"

The elf held his hand up. "You are not to blame, Hawke. My behaviour was deplorable. I apologise to _you_ , and hope that you will allow me to make amends."

Relieved, Hawke flashed the elf his brightest smile. "Oh, well, that would be nice, Fen. Maybe you could buy me a drink?" he asked with a cheeky wink.

The elf took a step closer, Hawke's wink causing his breathing to quicken, and once again shot Hawke the 'come to bed' look. "I was thinking more along the lines of dinner, at the mansion, perhaps?"

"Sounds nice, Fen," Hawke replied enthusiastically, his stomach growling. "What are we having?"

The elf moved even closer to Hawke and whispered in his ear, "Oh, there is no food at the mansion, Hawke. But I promise you a _feast_ the likes of which you have never before experienced…should you accept my invitation, that is." And with that, the elf turned and sauntered to the door, briefly glancing back. "There will be many courses for you to enjoy, Hawke," he declared before exiting in style.

Once Hawke had picked his jaw off of the floor, and rolled his tongue back into his head, he drew a stuttering breath and once again felt his breeches tighten. "Fuck me," he whispered hoarsely. For a second, the image of his friend Blondie came into his mind, but was quickly replaced by a pulsating eight-inch sabre of blue light, and he shuddered violently.

"Anders had his chance, and he blew it," Hawke said to himself, shaking his head. With the thought of _feasting_ on the elf now the only thing on his mind, he bade farewell to his charismatic dwarven friend and stepped out into the night, his limp having returned.

~o~O~o~

The elf didn't say a single word to Hawke during their jaunt through Hightown, and, no sooner had they arrived at the mansion and closed the door, than the elf had Hawke pinned up against a wall and attached himself to Hawke's lips like a limpet on the underside of a boat.

 _Aw, yeah…jackhammer time_ , Hawke thought in between gasps and moans. _Maker, I'm glad things worked out the way they did. I've always had a secret thing for broody, slightly obsessive men, anyway._

As if realising that Hawke's attention had wandered slightly, the elf drew back, fixed Hawke with an angry glare, and grabbed fistfuls of Hawke's hair, barely allowing the man to pause for breath before continuing his savage assault of Hawke's mouth.

"You're _mine_ , now," the elf growled in between biting and sucking on Hawke's delightfully sore and swollen lips. "Finally, you are mine."

"Y-yes, Fen," panted Hawke, when the elf finally came up for air. "A-anything you say."

When the elf released him, grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him upstairs, Hawke wondered for a moment how his liquefied legs would carry him, but the ache he felt – the dire need to be filled – spurred him on.

They entered the bedchamber, which was in pitch blackness, and the elf slammed the door before slamming into Hawke. Not knowing the layout of the room, Hawke felt dizzy and disoriented as the elf manoeuvred him, and then went into freefall when the elf pushed him, hard, not knowing where he'd land.

Thankfully, it was on a bed. Hawke lay there panting, unable to see a thing, the only sounds those of the elf's armour being unclasped and dropped to the floor.

"I'm going to make you mine, now," the elf declared in a low rasp.

"Maker, Fen, please make me yours!" Hawke desperately entreated, and, before he could draw another breath, the elf was upon him, biting and sucking at Hawke's aching flesh and yanking at his robe. Not used to the intricate ties on Hawke's robe, the elf emitted a frustrated snarl and the tearing of fabric was heard as cool air hit Hawke's chest.

A hot mouth clamped onto one of Hawke's nipples, and slender fingers plucked at the hairs that trailed down toward his breeches. Hawke's entire body began to tremble at the heady waves of pleasure and pain, and the promise they carried.

"Fen! Please, make me yours! Now!" cried Hawke, unable to contain himself any longer. _Fen, please fuck me like a jackhammer!_

And then, my friends, everything stopped.

"F-fen? W-what's the matter?" shrieked Hawke as the elf abruptly ceased his bid to acquire Hawke for his own, and sat back on his heels.

"You are…sticky," the elf said, running a hand down Hawke's chest.

 _Crap!_

"Is this…massage oil?"

 _Don't lie to Fenris. Whatever you do,_ don't _lie. He'll_ know _, damn him. He_ always _knows._

"Um, yes…er…you see, Anders wanted to try out his new cock-I mean, concoction, that's all. I swear, Fen, that's all that happened. He just gave me a little massage."

In the dark, Hawke cringed and hoped the elf couldn't feel the heat pouring off of his face.

"I…see," the elf said in a deadly calm voice. "Then it will have to come off."

Hawke sat bolt upright, heat and panic flooding him. "W-what will have to come off?"

"Why, the oil, of course," answered the elf, and Hawke caught a silvery glint of mischief in the elf's eyes as a sliver of moonlight filtered through the drapes, falling across his face.

Hawke slumped back onto the bed. "Thank the Maker for that!"

"Remain here," the elf instructed. "I will return presently. I must heat some water."

The elf pushed himself off the bed and padded silently over to the door. As the door opened, the light from the landing flooded in, and the elf's perfect silhouette highlighted that he was, in fact, stark bollock naked.

"Oh…Fen," Hawke groaned, sitting up on the side of the bed and drooling over the elf's taut, lean body and the thick, engorged shaft that extended from his middle. "Fen…please don't be too long."

"I won't," the elf promised in a husky whisper. "I grow…hungry for our feast." He turned and left the room, leaving Hawke cursing Blondie and his sodding oil. He also cursed the elf ever such a tiny bit for cutting him off in his prime, but he guessed he couldn't blame him for not wanting a reminder that another man had had his hands on Hawke not so long ago.

Hawke started to feel his balls ache, and stroked himself a few times, just to stay topped up, but realised that the elf had brought him so close that he was in danger of succumbing to the temptation of finishing himself off. He decided to take a little walk around the mansion to distract himself and left the bedroom, opening and closing a few doors on the way, finding nothing more noteworthy than the occasional desiccated corpse of a shade or demon. Hawke resolved that once he _belonged_ to the elf, he really would have to get onto him about cleaning up the place.

He continued mooching around, occasionally _topping himself up_ , when he came across a door at the end of a corridor which was locked and bolted, a crudely-written note stuck to it. Hawke squinted to decipher the barely-legible scrawl.

 _DO NOT ENTA ON PAYNE OF DETH. ESPESHLY HORK!_

Well, that was like leaving an open jar of candy next to a fat kid and telling him not to touch it, wasn't it?

Using his lock-picking skills [I can see your faces and I just want to say this: why _can't_ a mage have lock-picking skills? Where is it written that it is illegal or impossible for a mage to have acquired the skill of lock-picking? Huh? I mean, Blondie escaped from that tower seven times, so he must have something up his sleeves, right?]

Using his lock-picking skills [All right, damnit!] Using a lock-picking _spell_ [happy now?], Hawke glanced over his shoulder then gingerly pushed the door open, wondering what he would find.

The room was in darkness, save a few guttering candles that were neatly arranged at the far end. Hawke entered and walked over, having a hard time seeing as the candles had almost burned out. He could barely make out a large piece of fabric that was draped across a table beneath the candles, and some kind of large stick that was propped up against the wall. Hawke picked up the heavy fabric, realising that it was, in fact, a mage's robe.

"Eh? This looks like that robe of mine that went missing…" Hawke scrutinised the robe further, and then his eyes moved to the large, wooden stick. "That-that's my broken staff! What the bloody hell?"

Calling upon his flame spell, Hawke lit up the room [look, I don't know what he burned, okay? Just use your bloody imagination. It's happy hour at the Hanged Man in half an hour and I need to get this down before I set out] and gasped, taking several steps back.

There was another, smaller table next to the large one, upon which sat several of Hawke's belongings that had gone missing over the last several months. Rings, amulets, empty lyrium bottles…and, to Hawke's consternation, a diary that detailed his daily movements in minute detail. He turned to a random page and began to read:

 _11 Harvist meer_

 _Left howss. Waring that green rowb I helpt him pick owt. :) Went too ~~Hangd~~ pub, met wiv the dwoorf and the ABOMINAYSHUN!  >:( _

_Bort sevral ~~items~~ eyetems from a storl. Heez on the way too the manshun, now. Too see mee. :) Betta sneek ahed._

Hawke's reading was abruptly interrupted as an exclamation from the elf, and a pitcher of water smashing against the floor, were heard from behind him. Hawke spun around, the diary still in his hand, to a very red-faced elf, who hung his head in shame. Sadly by now, no amount of _topping up_ would have benefited either of them, as things had gone decidedly limp in the trouser department.

"Fenris? What's all this?" demanded Hawke. "Have you-have you been _following_ me?"

"It-it was for your own safety," the elf spluttered, unable to meet Hawke's eyes. "The abomination…he is taking far too great an interest in you lately, and I was concerned for your well-being."

"But what about the robe? The staff? All of my stuff? What does that have to do with Anders?"

The elf licked his lips nervously, realising his options were limited. In desperation, he stepped back and slammed the door, quickly locking it.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he said from outside the door. "I cannot allow you to leave, now. I have worked too hard to make you mine. It will be fine. I will take care of you and we will be together. I will feed you and keep you safe. You need no other but me."

"Er, Fen?" Hawke said from inside the room. "I _could_ just pick the lock again, you know."

"…Oh."

"Sorry."

The click of the bolt was heard, and the door opened. The elf stood in the doorway, abject humiliation in his posture. "I suppose you wish to leave, now?" he asked.

"Well, I think the moment's kind of been lost, Fen; don't you?" Hawke said softly.

The elf gulped, nodded and stepped aside. "I will not stand in your way. I have failed."

"Failed at what? Maker, Fen, you didn't _need_ to stalk me; I would have quite happily told you what I was up to. I would even have been glad of your company. All you had to do was ask."

The elf looked up, a glimmer of fragile hope in his eyes. "You-you do not hate me?"

"No, Fen! I love you to bits, you ninny!" He glanced around the room and sighed. "I suppose I should be flattered to have my very own fanboy, but you need to knock this on the head. It's not healthy to fixate on one person, you know. You need to get out more, meet different people."

"I have tried," the elf said sadly, "but you are the only one who seems to understand me, who tolerates my moods. And now I suppose I have ruined that friendship, as well."

"Not on your life," Hawke answered. "Look; the Hanged Man's still open for a bit. Why don't we grab a few drinks and just relax? I'll introduce you to some of the motley crew in there. You never know, you might even like them."

A hesitant smile lit up the elf's features. "You would drink with me, even after…"

"Of course! You're my friend."

"I am honoured you think so. Come, then; let us be off."

"Er, Fen? Perhaps we should get dressed, first?" suggested Hawke with a glance at their now-shrivelled peckers, and he slung his arm around the smiling elf, leading him back to the bedroom.

~o~O~o~

Meanwhile, back at the clinic, Justice was unconvinced of Blondie's assurances of getting him laid anytime soon, and decided to take affirmative action.

 **I have made my decision.**

" _You've-you've_ what _? Made your decision about what, exactly?"_

 **I will have the elf.**

A wave of cold dread crashed over Blondie, but he quickly and smoothly composed himself. _"Well, sure, Justice, we can find you an elf; there are plenty in the Alienage-"_

 **Not just any elf. The elf with whom we imbibed fermented grain potables earlier this eve. You will bring him to me.**

"No! _Absolutely not! I_ mean _it, Justice. Anyone but_ him _. There are countless elves in the Free Marches, and-"_

 **I have spoken. You will fulfil your promise to me, Anders. It is unjust for you to expostulate in this fashion.**

" _Now, hang on a minute! Don't you think you're taking the piss with this just-stroke-unjust business? Lately,_ everything _I do is unjust, according to you! Yesterday, you said it was unjust that I ate that portion of curried turtle, just because_ you _don't like it! Well, it's_ my _mouth it goes into and_ my _arse it comes back out of!"_

 **Whatever you taste, _I_ taste, Anders, and, when it passes through your mortal sphincter, I feel the sting as you do! You were aware of my dislike of the Testudines genus as a comestible, and yet you proceeded to consume it! That _was_ unjust, not to mention highly discomfiting!**

" _Okay, then, what about the time when you said it would be unjust for me to have my hair cut short? You know how frizzy my hair gets when the weather's damp and how long it takes to dry! It's doing my bloody head in!"_

 **I prefer me…uh, you…with long hair.**

" _All right, fair enough, but I am_ not _'bringing' the elf to you! Why him, for crying out loud? What's so special about_ him _?"_

 **He would serve as an apposite receptacle for my seed. I grow heavy with it, and it must be egested directly, ere it egests of its own volition, the ramifications of which would be catastrophic to this realm: the spontaneous manumission of my virtuous essence would sunder the Veil.**

" _There are plenty of_ other _apposite receptacles besides him, you know!"_

 **He…appears more apposite than most.**

" _Maker! Don't tell me you fancy him! I've heard everything, now!"_

 **Enough! If you do not bring the elf before me, _I_ will solicit his favours.**

" _You can't_ do _that! You can't just take control of my body to go off and shag someone I hate! That's about as unjust as it gets! And don't forget he hates_ us _, as well!"_

 **(He hates _you_ , you mean.)**

" _What…what was that?"_

 **.....**

" _Justice?"_

 **You are correct, Anders. For me to pursue the elf without your leave would be unrighteous.**

" _I should bloody well think so! Wait…why did you hesitate?"_

 **I did not.**

" _Yes, you_ did _."_

 **Uh…there was a temporary disruption in the Fade.**

" _I didn't feel anything."_

 **I inhabit a higher echelon of the Fade than you do, Anders. You would not have detected it.**

" _Since when?"_

The spirit yawned and stretched his arms inside Blondie's mind. **I believe I will retire, now. It is already night time in the Fade. Goodnight to you, Anders.**

" _Night time in the…? Oh, no you don't! I already tried that one on Hawke, and-"_

 **.....**

" _Justice?"_

 **Zzzzzz.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blondie takes advantage of Hawke's caring nature when he realises that the elf is a real threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere thanks to Mary for her beta and encouragement!
> 
> Thank you also to all of you for reading this silly story, and for your comments. To anyone reading the main story, regular updates should be forthcoming shortly; I've moved house and changed job recently but things seem to be settling down, now. Thank you all for your patience!

"Justice? Wake up! I haven't finished talking to you, yet!"

Blondie pouted and folded his arms when the spirit failed to answer, but then a naughty twinkle appeared in his eyes.

"Wait…if he's asleep…" A smug grin stretched Blondie's mouth and he slowly stood up, put his jacket on and tiptoed out of the clinic. Since they'd joined, or merged or whatever they called it, Justice had forbade Blondie from getting drunk. Every time Blondie got within fifty yards of the Hanged Man, Justice had piped up and given him a lecture on how, if his incarcerated magi brethren were not allowed to get loaded, then it was unjust for Blondie to do so.

One time, Blondie had told Justice he couldn't give a rat's ass whether it was just, and that he intended to get drunk with his friends whether Justice liked it or not, but he never got the chance as he was suddenly beset by a severe case of the runs; in fact, the poor sod only just made it to the latrine on time, and had to lay off the booze as Hawke insisted he drink nothing but boiled water all night.

Blondie had tried again the following week and once again defied Justice, and, yet again, was struck by the trots. He'd put it down to nerves due to worrying about standing up to Justice, but Hawke hadn't bought it for one minute, and had demanded to speak to Justice once they'd stepped outside, calling him _Justshits_ to antagonise him into appearing. A very unpleasant conversation had ensued, with Justice eventually laying claim to Blondie's ass and telling Hawke he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it, as it was also _his_ ass.

That had been the start of the bad blood between Hawke and Justice, and things had only gotten worse since then: Justice couldn't see why Hawke, as a mage, wasn't as outraged as he and Blondie were by the injustices that mages faced every day and so on. Hawke told Justice it was because he was a lazy bastard, simple as that, which Justice said was unacceptable, and even went so far as to accuse Hawke of being a templar sympathiser. Hawke had laughed at that, which, as you can imagine, didn't go down too well, and Justice had told him to butt out of the business of Blondie's butt [see what I did there?].

Anyway, suffice to say that Justice and Hawke weren't best buddies.

Well, Blondie was a little pissed with Justice as well, and so thought it would be a hoot to sneak into the Hanged Man, where he assumed Hawke would be, and for the two of them to get wasted right under the snoozing Justice's glowing blue nose! And Blondie was certain that once Hawke had a few drinks under his belt, the whole embarrassing _massage_ debacle would be forgotten.

He crept along the alleyways and side streets of Lowtown, careful to avoid anyone he knew who might say hello and wake Justice. As he neared the Hanged Man, he thought it might be a good idea to test that Justice really _was_ asleep, and so he gave a running commentary of what he was doing.

"Right…I'm just walking past the Trinkets Emporium, which is on the way to the _Hanged Man_ ," he said loudly, bracing himself. When after a few seconds nothing happened, he grinned to himself and continued on his way. "I'm going up the little flight of steps…turning the corner…and, ooh, look! The Hanged Man…I wonder if I should pop in for a quick one? Oh, I'd better not… _Justice_ might not like me going into the _Hanged Man_ for a _drink._ "

Again, nothing happened, and Blondie practically bounced up and down as he approached the pub, but he ducked around the corner when the door opened; he didn't want to engage in conversation with anyone on the way in, for fear of waking the spirit. He just wanted to get a damned drink in his hand, by which time it would be too late!

Listening from around the corner, he heard two men laughing on their way out of the pub. He was just about to re-emerge, but froze when he heard their voices:

"We really must do this again, Fen! I haven't laughed so much in ages!"

"I, too, have enjoyed myself immensely, Hawke," replied the elf, uncharacteristic warmth in his voice. "I am very pleased you invited me here. Thank you."

Blondie craned his head around the corner, just far enough to see the two friends. For Justice to awaken now could be doubly disastrous: not only did Blondie risk catastrophic diarrhoea, but also, if Justice saw the elf, he might take control of Blondie's body and make a play for him. And if _both_ happened at the same time, Blondie might just welcome the inevitable fist plunging into his heart.

"…Hawke, I must apologise again for what happened earlier."

"Look, I told you, forget it. You know…" Hawke stepped closer to the elf and brushed his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "…I, um, I'd still like it if one day we could get together, you know."

"Oh?" asked the elf hopefully.

"Yes, maybe when things have settled down? It's just that things are so busy and we have the Deep Roads expedition to get over with, but maybe…after that? When things are less crazy? What do you think?"

The elf reached up his own hand to stroke Hawke's hair, and Blondie scowled, his hands clutching at the stone wall he stood next to.

"I would like that very much, Hawke," the elf whispered seductively, "…Fletcher." The two men laughed softly, and moved closer to one another. "And what would you suggest I do in the meantime?" asked the elf, playing with the ties on Hawke's robe in a display of coquettishness that made Blondie want to howl with rage.

"Have some fun," Hawke advised him. "Meet people. Let your hair down. Broaden your horizons," he added with a wink.

"Do you mean…are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Hawke nodded. "I want you to have fun, Fen. Fun that doesn't involve _me_. Oh, we'll still meet up; I've just had one of the most fun nights of my life with you! But I want you to meet other people, as well."

"You are encouraging me to…?"

"Put yourself about!"

"But why would you advise that? Would you not be…jealous?"

"I'm not the jealous type," Hawke laughed. "I'd love for you to experience different things, if you know what I mean." He leaned in closer to the elf and whispered, "And when we do finally get together, I want you to be able to teach me a thing or two."

The elf's shoulders shook as he sniggered, and he smiled up at Hawke before a small frown worried his brow. "And the abom-Anders? What about him?"

Hawke sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "I won't lie to you, Fen; there _was_ a bit of an attraction there, but, after tonight, it's clear to me who I want to be with. When I think of the future, I think of _you_ , and that's the truth."

The elf's smile returned and deepened as Hawke leaned down and softly kissed his lips. "For now, though, Fen, _have fun_. After the Deep Roads, we'll talk properly, eh?"

The irate Blondie continued to watch as the two men embraced and shared a dopey smile.

"I will," the elf promised. "I believe I shall…visit the Blooming Rose?"

"That's the spirit!" cheered Hawke. "Any preferences? I could recommend someone suitable."

The elf whispered something in Hawke's ear, causing the mage to raise an eyebrow. "In that case, I'd ask for either Silas or Remi; _he's_ Orlesian, you know. I didn't know you were into _that_ sort of thing," he whispered.

"There is much you do not know about me…Fletcher," the elf purred, and the two men once again shared a laugh. "Would you care to accompany me?"

"No. This is about _you_ ," said Hawke, turning the elf and pointing him in the direction of the Rose. "Listen, I was planning to go shopping in the morning. How'd you like to come along and help me pick out another robe? You've got great taste. Just…leave the diary at home, eh?"

"I would enjoy that very much," the elf replied warmly, his cheeks flushed.

Hawke pecked him on the cheek. "Great! Now go and fill your boots!" He gave the elf a nudge toward Hightown and patted his little ass for good measure. The elf sailed off with a spring in his step, and, just before he disappeared out of sight, he turned and waved at Hawke, who waved back and blew him a kiss.

"Bastard!" Blondie growled, watching as Hawke trotted toward the slums, and home. "That bloody elf! Batting his eyelashes and wiggling his arse at Hawke! How dare he! Okay, okay…get a grip. Hawke said they wouldn't get together until _after_ the Deep Roads! That gives me _plenty_ of time to work on him! I just need a quick drink to get the ideas flowing…"

With purpose and determination in his steps, Blondie strode around the corner toward the Hanged Man, stopping just before he entered as he heard a snort inside his mind and felt an incorporeal hand scratching his balls.

 **Anders?**

The spirit yawned and Blondie felt a tickle shoot up his ass as Justice passed a gust of spirit gas.

"J-Justice? Um…did you sleep well?" asked Blondie, panic rooting him to the spot.

 **Yes, Anders. Thank you for enquiring. Wait…where are we? Why are we not at the clinic?**

"Er…I just went for a little walk, clear my head, you know?"

 **Is that…the Hanged Man? Anders! Have you designs on ingesting alcoholic beverages without my knowledge? We have discussed this countless times before!**

"No! I was just walking past! As I said, I wanted to clear my head a b-"

 **It is unjust to tell falsehoods! Do** _**not** _ **try to deceive me!**

"Oh, surprise, surprise. Something _else_ I've done that's unjust. So now it's _unjust_ for me to go for a walk about town, is it?"

 **Anders. Do** _**not** _ **persist with your lies.**

Suddenly, Blondie felt a movement in his stomach, which quickly negotiated itself through his guts. "Oooh…ooh…shit! I think I'm going to-" Clutching his belly, he ducked around the corner, knowing that this time he _wouldn't_ make it to the latrine.

 **Anders? Are you feeling quite well?**

"J-just shut up and keep an eye out!" Blondie ordered as he hitched up his robe, pulled down his pants and squatted behind a barrel, puffing and grimacing as he painted the walls of the Hanged Man a _new_ shade of brown, with a rather jaunty corn motif.

"Urgh…bloody hell," Blondie panted when he was certain there was nothing left inside him; in fact, he felt like he'd shat out his innards as well as everything else. Looking around, and not finding a conveniently-placed paper holder, he removed his pants and used them to clean himself up with before throwing them behind the barrel.

Stepping out of the shadows, Blondie knew his wobbly legs wouldn't get him back to the clinic. "Hawke's place isn't far," he said aloud, leaning heavily against a wall that _wasn't_ freshly-painted.

 **Hawke's domicile is not large enough to accommodate you, Anders; you should repair to a more…spacious dwelling. The elf's mansion in Hightown, for ex-**

" _What_?"

 **The mansion has many** _**bedrooms** _ **in which you can recuperate. Actually…he will not be there. Perhaps we-you could join him at the Blooming Rose?**

"You must be insane! You _do_ know he hates my guts, don't you? Anyway, Hightown's miles away from here!" Blondie's eyes narrowed, then, and, inside his mind, he felt Justice's eyes darting from side to side. "You know what? I wouldn't be surprised if _you_ were responsible for me having the shits every time I come here! Hawke was right!"

 **What has Hawke been saying about me? I will not suffer unjust accusations being levelled upon me!**

"He reckons _you're_ the one causing my runny tummy! It seems a bit of a coincidence that every time I want an ale I end up _expelling_ brown water instead of drinking it! Or do you think _that's_ an unjust accusation?"

 **I will challenge any man who seeks to malign the word of Justice with calumny and traducements!**

"Um…come again?"

 **All prevarications will be repudiated!**

"Right. That makes a _lot_ more sense, doesn't it?"

 **Hawke's lies will not go unchallenged! Do you understand** _**that?** _

"Lies, eh? Come on, then; let's go and teach Hawke a lesson for his _knavery_ , hm?"

 **Uh…but, the elf…the mansion…**

"Go ahead! Take control of me! See how far you get; I can barely stand! Now, I'm off to Hawke's. And before you start whinging, remember it's _your_ bloody fault I can't walk any further than that!"

 **...**

"What's the matter, Justice? Aren't you going to repudiate my prevarications or something?"

 **I am in a state of dormancy. Do not disturb me.**

"How can you be _talking_ if you're _dormant_?"

 **...**

"Yeah. _Sulking_ , more like."

 **Benevolent spirits of the Fade do** _**not** _ **sulk, Anders. Such actions are for mortals and their progeny.**

"Whatever you say, Justice. And I thought you were supposed to be dormant?"

 **I** _**am** _ **dormant…** _**now.** _ **No, wait…NOW.**

"Thank the pissing Maker for that!"

Blondie knew there was no time to lose. It seemed that Justice wasn't averse to employing trickery to get closer to the elf, and as far as Blondie was concerned, neither Justice's nor his _own_ seed were getting anywhere _near_ the short, broody one.

No…if Justice wanted _mortal_ love, Blondie knew just the person…a very caring healer who just happened to be a sucker for a sob story. Blondie had no problem unloading their seed into _him_ , and, once they had, maybe the spirit would shut the hell up about the sodding elf once and for all.

~o~O~o~

As soon as Hawke opened the door and laid eyes on his sweating, trembling friend, the kind-hearted healer completely forgot what had happened earlier in the clinic, and bundled Blondie inside, kicking his uncle off of the best chair in the house.

"Anders! Sit down! Whatever's happened to you?" fretted Hawke.

"I c-can't sit down," said Blondie, who seemed to have acquired a stutter on his way to Hawke's house. "I've g-got an arsehole like a d-dragon's nostril."

"Have you been to the Hanged Man again?" demanded an incensed Hawke. "Justice! Come out at once! Hoy! Justshits!"

"I-it won't d-do any good, Hawke," wailed Blondie. "He won't talk to m-me."

"Here, lie down," offered Hawke, gently helping his stricken pal onto the settee. Blondie did as he was bid and reclined on his elbow, remembering to wince and hiss occasionally.

"He's nothing but a bully!" raged Hawke, pounding his fist against his knee as he sat opposite Blondie. "He can't treat you like this!"

"I-I only merged with him b-because I was lonely," Blondie lamented with a pained expression. "All I wanted was a f-friend, Hawke. But h-he's _horrible_ to me! H-horrible, I tell you!"

"Oh, Anders!" Hawke leapt to his feet and rushed over to the settee, where, my friends, Blondie was weeping. Yes, _weeping_. He pushed Blondie up a little and sat next to him, and Blondie laid his head in Hawke's lap.

"It's all right," soothed Hawke, softly stroking Blondie's hair as the tricksy mage whimpered against Hawke's thigh.

"I-I'm sooooo l-looooonely, H-Hawke!" bawled Blondie, Hawke's robe balling in his fists.

"Shh. You're not alone, Anders," said Hawke gently. "You have me. You'll _always_ have me."

Blondie sniffled, wiped his eyes and looked up at Hawke, remembering to bat his eyelashes for effect. "F-for serious?"

"For serious," lulled Hawke, clutching one of Blondie's hands, and stroking his hair with the other. "Now, go to sleep. You're safe here, Anders. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"T-thank you, Fletcher. I-I mean, Hawke. I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to-"

"Please call me Fletcher, Anders; all of my friends do," Hawke reassured him. "Sweet dreams."

"Y-you t-too," said Blondie shakily, who had stammered so much I think he'd forgotten how _not_ to, and he snuggled into Hawke's lap, a blissful smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

~o~O~o~

Meanwhile, the elf, who had asked for Remi at the Blooming Rose, was light on his feet as he skipped home to the mansion, where he prepared for bed. He had really enjoyed himself, and planned on telling Hawke all about it, and what tricks he'd learned, when they went shopping together the following morning.

In fact, so happy was he that he decided, instead of meeting Hawke at the market as usual, he would call on his soon-to-be paramour at his house, and would take Hawke's ma up on her repeated offers of breakfast with the Hawke family. He would arrive nice and early, to make sure he caught Hawke well before he left.

The elf's eyes fluttered closed at about the same time as Blondie's, both of them dreaming of the man who would soon be theirs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blondie's scheming comes back to bite him on the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humble apologies to those of you following the story. I have been very negligent in updating this, and I've finally got round to writing the final chapter. My thanks to DragonsFeather for giving me the kick up the bum I needed!
> 
> And thank you to my always wonderful beta-reader Mary for her quick and thorough edit! You are Maker-sent.

The elf paused at the front door and smoothed his tight-fitting tunic around his hips, ensuring his wasp-like waist and peachy little ass were shown off to their best advantage. That morning, he'd added orange oil and lavender to his bathwater and had washed his hair. Damn, he smelled good enough to eat, even if he said so himself!

His hair was still damp and he arranged a few of the longer strands over his left eye, so that he'd have to look up through his hair when speaking to Hawke. And if looking up through his hair meant that he also had to widen his eyes and bat his lashes, well, that couldn't be helped.

He was all set. After breakfast, he and Hawke would take their planned sojourn around the market, where he'd help Hawke to select a new robe.

And, with the Maker as his witness, he was gonna tear that damned robe off with his teeth!

After his visit to the Rose, he'd spent all night either dreaming or thinking of Hawke, and in the morning, he'd woken with a raging…uh… _headache_ [It's called _allusion_. We writers use it all the time. In other words, use your imagination]. He hadn't quite managed to shake it off, and his affliction had put him in a determined mood.

"Wait until after the Deep Roads expedition for Hawke?" he asked himself as he made a fist to knock on the door. "Sod that!" [Look, I know that the elf doesn't say 'sod' but I don't know what the elven equivalent is. Nor do I know what this Uptight-Broody-Pissed-off-Ex-slave's equivalent is, either, so just cut me some slack, okay?]

{ _Beta-reader's suggestion: I think it would be more in character for him to say, "I think not!"_ ~~ _Oh, and I also think he should grow a beard at some point in the story. I like beards, and I think Fenris would look very distinguished with one. Failing that, a moustache would do nicely.}_~~

~~[Since when do elves have facial hair, Rivaini? Didn't Daisy once tell us that they don't have any body hair at all?]~~

_~~{This is a bloody story, isn't it? Like you said earlier, use your imagination! And I'm not having someone as manly as Fenris being portrayed with no pubes! I want to see a veritable shrubbery of hair beneath those breeches of his!}~~_

~~[Seriously? You want me to give him a bush of **white** pubic hair? Are you nuts?]~~

_~~{No, not white! Black and thick and wiry and-}~~ _

Author's Note: My beta-reader and I have parted company due to artistic differences. Sorry for the interruption.

"Wait until after the Deep Roads expedition for Hawke?" he asked himself as he made a fist to knock the door. "I think not!"

_~~{Oh, you'll still use my suggestions though, won't you? You literary pirate, you!}~~ _

~~[Can it!]~~

After rapping the door firmly, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. And then it occurred to him that doing that wasn't such a good idea, as it thrust his _headache_ into prominence, so he folded them across his belly, instead.

The door was opened by Hawke's ma, and she gasped in delight when she set eyes on the elf, who greeted her with a deep bow.

"Oh, Fenris! Do come in! It's wonderful to see you!" she gushed.

"Thank you, indeed," he replied, producing a posy of jasmine and sweet herbs he'd hand-picked from the grounds of the mansion. "I took the liberty of selecting these for you. I hope they are…suitable?"

With bright eyes, Ma Hawke took the posy. "Well, I know an elf who'll be having a double helping of breakfast!" she smiled, waving the grinning broodster through to the living room.

"Fenris!" Hawke exclaimed delightedly, rising from the table as the elf entered. They embraced, with much back-slapping, and Hawke pulled out a chair, bidding the elf to sit. "What a nice surprise!" chirped Hawke, taking his own seat and pushing half a mug of tea across the table as Ma Hawke went back into the kitchen. "Here, finish this; I'll make us a fresh one in a minute."

Taking a sip of the warm tea, the elf wriggled slightly in his chair, as his headache had not abated. His predicament was not helped when Hawke leaned closer and whispered, "You smell _nice_ , Fen. Was that for my benefit, by any chance?" A cheeky wink from the mage ensured the headache was well on its way to becoming a migraine.

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't," replied the elf enigmatically, also leaning closer and looking up at Hawke through his hair, batting his eyelashes – which, of course, he couldn't help.

Hawke sniggered and looked down at the table, tracing circles with his finger. "And how did you get on at the Rose last night? Who did you see? Did you learn a thing or two?"

"I saw Remi, as per your recommendation," the elf murmured, "and I learned many things; _more_ than one or two. Perhaps you will permit me to…share my experiences with you once we leave your house?"

"Perhaps I will." Hawke's snigger turned into a wide grin, and he and the elf simpered at each other until the loud creak of a door behind them popped their little bubble.

"Oh, morning, Anders," Hawke greeted Blondie as he emerged from Hawke's bedroom, towelling his hair. And wearing Hawke's pink frou-frou _housecoat!_

"Good morning, _Hawke_ ," Blondie answered, throwing the elf an impossibly smug grin as he breezed over to the table. "Thank you for _having me_ last night."

"Anders wasn't very well last night," Hawke explained to the elf, who was no longer simpering. But hey, at least his headache had gone. Like, _instantly_. "How are you now, Anders?" Hawke asked as he rose and gathered the mugs.

"Still a bit delicate, Hawke." Blondie sat at the table with a grimace, ensuring he clutched his belly for effect.

"Just a bit of porridge for you, then," said Hawke, walking over to the kitchen. "How about sausage, bacon and eggs, Fen?" he asked the elf, who nodded, while keeping an eye on Blondie.

"Oh, I think I could manage a bit of that," Blondie piped up. "I feel a bit weak, so I think I'll need something more than porridge."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'll manage somehow," said Blondie with a slightly pained smile, and the elf's upper lip curled as if someone had just passed gas right in his face. "And throw some black pudding and fried bread onto it as well, will you?"

"Good lad!" Hawke grinned with a slap to Blondie's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit!"

Broody waited until Hawke had entered the kitchen and sat back, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Your scheme – whatever it is – will _not_ work," he told Blondie assuredly.

"Scheme? I don't know _what_ you mean, Fenris. Hawke very kindly took me in last night when I needed him. He's a wonderfully caring man; has a very _gentle touch_."

"Not in _my_ experience," sneered the elf. "When _Fletcher_ accompanied me back to the mansion, he was anything _but_ gentle with me."

"Well, maybe he just hasn't shown _you_ his tender side," Blondie sniffed. "He showed it to me last night when he stroked my hair and whispered me to sleep. It was very… _intimate."_

"Tea!" Hawke announced, entering from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. Then, detecting the charged atmosphere in the living room, his face dropped. "Is…everything all right?" he asked, his eyes darting between the two men.

"Fine," muttered Broody, slowly standing up and pushing his chair back. "Thank you for the offer of breakfast, Hawke, but I have an errand to attend to. Forgive me."

"But I thought we were going to the market?" Hawke asked, crestfallen.

"There will be plenty of time to visit the market," the elf assured him. "There is something I must take care of, first."

"Oh, _I'll_ go to the market with you, Hawke!" Blondie very kindly offered with a contemptuous smirk at the elf.

"But-but…" Hawke stammered.

"All will be well soon," the elf told Hawke with a dark smile. "There is a problem I must _eradicate_. I will return later."

"See you soon!" Blondie called with a cheerful wave as Broody moved towards the door.

"Yes," the elf answered without looking back. "You will see me _very_ soon."

As the door closed behind the elf, Blondie pushed himself up and stretched his arms. "Right then, Hawke. I'll go and get dressed, and you sort out breakfast. Then, I'll pop over to the clinic and see if there are any patients, and then we'll have the whole day to ourselves! Won't that be nice?" He wrapped an arm around the bemused Hawke's shoulder and then gave it a squeeze before skipping off to the bedroom, apparently having made a miraculous recovery.

"Erm, yes, all right, Anders," Hawke mumbled, scratching his head and frowning before turning back to the kitchen.

~o~O~o~

After breakfast, Blondie left Hawke's house, promising to return once he'd paid a visit to the clinic. Stretching his arms and taking in a lungful of air, he grinned up at the morning sun. "What a beautiful day! Now, I must remember where I put that massage oil…"

Whistling to himself, he strutted out of the slums, but, as he felt a stirring inside of him, the sun's rays no longer warmed him, and he groaned, knowing what was coming.

**Anders. Once again you disappoint me. Why must you insist on antagonising the elf? You were left alone with him. Why did you not woo him? Flatter him? Must I do** _**everything** _ **myself?**

_You don't have to do anything! I'm working on Hawke, all right? I've got rid of the elf, and Hawke and I will have the whole day together! Hawke's going to be pissed off that Fenris stood him up, and I will insist on making up for the kindness he showed me last night._ Think _, Justice. Doesn't it make more sense to woo and flatter Hawke? He_ likes _me. Fenris would either run a mile or kill me if I tried it on with him! It's just not going to happen!_

**Do not be so certain, Anders.**

_What do you mean by that?_

**I believe that the elf** _**would** _ **be receptive to our attentions. He was** _**receptive** _ **at Hawke's abode; did you not see when he rose? Oh, yes…he was** _**most** _ **receptive.**

_Justice…you're not making any sense. How was he receptive, exactly?_

**The turgidity of his reproductive organ was a clear indication that he was not only receptive to our attentions, but that he is in dire need of egressing his own seed. How did you not notice this?**

_Are-are you saying he had a hard-on?_

**An uncouth term, but quite so. He could not have made his intent more obvious. Our path is clear. You** _**must** _ **pursue him forthwith and relieve him of his – our – burden.**

_I will do no such thing! I'm_ going _to the clinic and then I'm going to woo Hawke! You wanted mortal love, and I'm the only one who seems to be doing anything about it! You're determined to get me killed, aren't you? How can_ you _not see that Fenris would crush my heart if I so much as touched him?_

**Enough! Your cowardice is most vexing. If you will not act, then** _**I** _ **will.**

_Okay, then, Justice! Go ahead! Take control of me again! Do you think the templars in Lowtown and Hightown won't notice when a glowing blue mage strolls past them?_

**The enslavers of mages will feel Justice's burn should they thwart my plans!**

_Oh, they'll feel your burn, will they? In broad daylight? Don't be such a twat!_

… **..**

 _Oh, cat got your tongue again, Justice? What a surprise! I disagree with you or say something that makes sense, and you go_ dormant!

**I am** _**not** _ **dormant. I am merely cogitating the logic of your argument. Perhaps you are correct, Anders; your scheme of wooing Hawke** _**would** _ **make more sense.**

_What, just like that? You know, I don't like it when you suddenly change your mind and agree with me! I don't believe you!_

**I am a benevolent spirit of the Fade, Anders. I am incapable of the traits you would ascribe to me. Justice does** _**not** _ **lie. Justice does** _**not** _ **deceive or delude. Justice is** _**just** _ **. That is my sole purpose and reason for existence.**

_Oh, Maker…not the guilt trip_ again _! Just listen to me! I'm going to the clinic to get the massage oil. Then I'm going back to Hawke's house and when his ma goes to the market, I'll play sick again and move in for the kill! Hawke will be sad about Fenris and I'll turn on the tears and one thing will lead to another and we'll have hot, teary, emotional sex! With biting and hair-pulling and everything!_

**Biting?** _**Hair-pulling?** _

_You bet! Uh…Justice?_

Blondie glanced down and, realising that they had a problem, he ducked into a side alley.

 _You-you're becoming_ turgid _yourself! Think of something unsexy, before you sunder the Veil!_

**What would you suggest?**

_Um…oh, I know! Remember the time Oghren came onto you when he was really drunk? He said he didn't care your body was dead so long as there was life in your pecker, and you vomited in your mouth? Think of that! Hurry!_

… **..**

Justice sighed, and the glow of his eight-inch member of light quickly waned.

**Thank you, Anders. Now do you see how compelling my need is? I** _**must** _ **liberate my seed today! If I do not, the consequences to the mortal realm are inconceivable!**

_I'm doing my best, all right? Just keep yourself under control while I'm wooing Hawke!_

**Perhaps you do not understand the urgency of the situation. You have until day's end. Do** _**not** _ **fail me, Anders. If, by sundown, my seed does not have a mortal home, I** _**will** _ **seize control of your body, and I** _**will** _ **unload my seed into the first receptacle we encounter. I am quite prepared to risk an encounter with the enslavers of mages for the good of my cause. Are** _**you** _ **? No…I thought not.**

_All right! Now shut up and stop holding me up! I need to get that massage oil!_

**Very well. Be quick, then.**

~o~O~o~

"Mother, I'm popping out," Hawke called through to the kitchen. "I think I've upset Fenris and I want to make sure he's all right. If Anders gets here before I come back, will you ask him to wait?"

"Of course, dear," said Hawke's mama. "I'm certain you and Fenris will work things out."

"I hope so. See you later," he said before leaving the house and closing the door.

His legs and heart heavy, Hawke trudged through Lowtown, guilt gnawing at his belly. He _hated_ it when the elf was pissed, and guessed that when he found him, the two of them would be having another spat. And things had been going so well between them, as well.

Just as he reached the foot of the steps leading up to Hightown, he spied the elf charging down them, and he hid behind a market stall. Broody had changed into his guard uniform, and carried a huge sword, as well as a pair of iron manacles!

"What the hell's he doing?" Hawke whispered, hiding in the shadows as the elf stalked past.

After waiting for a minute, Hawke emerged and began to follow, but the elf's pace was too fast, and by the time Hawke realised where the elf was heading, he'd fallen way behind.

"Fenris! Come back!" he yelled, but Broody was too far ahead to hear.

~o~O~o~

"I know it's in here somewhere!" Blondie hissed, rifling through one of his trunks. "Shit! Where did I put it? Although…I suppose any oil will do." Putting his hand on a jar of linseed oil, he slipped it into his pocket and slammed the lid of the trunk shut. Standing and turning around, his smug countenance quickly disappeared, and he folded his arms, glaring ahead.

"What the bloody hell do _you_ want?"

"You have become a _problem_ ," the elf growled, holding the manacles up and waving his sword. "I am going to put you away. For a very long time."

"You-you can't do that!" Blondie spluttered. "I've done nothing wrong! You can't arrest me without good reason!"

"I will think of _something_ ," threatened Broody, advancing on Blondie.

"No! You can't _do_ that! It's unj-I-I mean, it's not right!" Blondie argued, panic spiking into him.

"Right? Wrong? What do I care? You have done your best to wrest Hawke away from me, but no more! Your campaign of ensnarement ends here!" The elf moved in front of Blondie, his sword prodding at the mage's chest.

"Fenris!" Blondie exclaimed. "You-you can't _do_ this! You don't realise what will happen! Please! I swear I'll leave Hawke alone! Just don't place me under arrest without _just cause_! Do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Your protestations do not move me, Mage." With a dextrous flick of his wrists, the elf's sword was at Blondie's throat and the manacles were swiftly clapped around poor Blondie's wrists. "With you out of the way, there will be no obstacles to my acquisition of Hawke for my own. Do _you_ hear what I am saying?" sneered the elf.

**I hear you, Elf.**

Broody leapt back, his eyes narrowing as Blondie turned around to face him, a familiar blue light streaming from his eyes.

 **I have been waiting for you, little one,** Justice uttered, moving closer to the object of his ardour. **We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you I was but the learner. Now, I am the master.**

"Only the master of evil, Justice!" the elf protested.

**Really? Do you think** _**this** _ **is evil, little one?**

Broody's eyes travelled downward and widened as Justice unleashed his blue, glowing weapon of mass seduction.

"Is that…lyrium?" the elf queried, his tattoos or whatever they're called matching the luminescence of Justice's boner.

 _ **Eight inches**_ **of lyrium,** boasted the spirit, holding out Blondie's shackled hands. **And I am not yet fully tumescent. I have never before realised my full potential, little one. Until now.**

Completely enraptured by Justice's magical lyrium cock, Broody freed Blondie's hands, letting the manacles drop to the floor. "As you can see, Spirit," the elf said, stepping back and glancing down at his breeches, "there is nothing _little_ about me."

Under Justice's control, Blondie's tongue swept across his lips, and Justice moved closer to the elf, his breathing heavy and laboured. **Impressive, Elf; most impressive. Remi has taught you well. Today will be a day long remembered.**

Blondie's trousers fell to the ground, as did the elf's breeches, and two wands of blue light illuminated the clinic.

**Now, bend over, Elf, and prepare to feel the force of Justice's burn!**

~o~O~o~

The panting, sweaty Hawke bent at the waist, hands braced on his knees, as he reached the clinic door. "Must…stop…Fen…killing…Anders," he gasped, straightening up. Staggering to the door, he pushed it open, stopping dead as he heard grunting and the unmistakable sound of balls slapping against ass.

"Shit!" Hawke hissed, and quickly concealed himself behind one of Blondie's many trunks and boxes. After a moment to steady his breathing, he peered over the top of a box, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his astonished cry.

Justice and the elf were going at it like sodding knives! Hawke watched, aghast but fascinated, as Justice trembled and then slumped against the elf.

 **Um…that-that does not usually happen** , mumbled the spirit, quickly withdrawing from the elf. **It has…been a long time. Now, you will use** _ **me**_ **as a receptacle.**

"No…I do not wish to use you as a receptacle," said the elf, pulling up his breeches.

**But it is only just. You have controlled your fear. Now, release your anger. Only your hatred can destroy me.**

The elf shook his head, his senses returning to him. "That should not have happened…there is only one I would use as a receptacle, and that is Hawke."

Justice nodded and dipped his head. **You are honourable, Elf, and have averted a catastrophe; you have my thanks. Now, I must recline and inhale combusted dried plant material. Do you wish to talk about your feelings? Is that not what mortals do after such acts?**

"That is what _female_ mortals do, Spirit; you have much to learn. _Male_ mortals simply pass out. Now, I must find Hawke and make amends. Farewell," the dazed elf bade the spirit.

 **Fare ye well, not-so-little one,** Justice replied, and moved over to the cot, collapsing onto it and groaning as he slipped into the Fade.

"You were looking for Hawke? You've found him," the mage said as he moved out of the shadows.

"Hawke? W-what are _you_ doing here?" spluttered the elf.

"I came here to stop you from doing something terrible," Hawke explained.

The elf hung his head in shame. "I fear you were too late, Hawke. I have betrayed you."

"No…it was my fault," said Hawke, and the elf looked up at him, confused. "I was the one who encouraged you to put yourself about. You didn't betray anyone. I thought that I could hold back my feelings until after the expedition, but…after seeing you with him, I realised my mistake. I want you to be mine, Fen. I _never_ want to see you with another man – or spirit - again. Do you…think we could start over?"

The elf's eyes lit up and a hesitant smile tugged at his lips. "Nothing would make me happier, Hawke. Fletcher."

Hawke took the elf's hand and led him out of the clinic. "Let's get you back to the mansion; you must be knackered. I'll make us a nice meal, and, when you feel up to it, maybe you could…fill me in on what happened last night?"

"Oh, I will fill you in, Hawke; I _promise_ you that," teased the elf.

Smiling, the two love birds strolled out of Darktown, hand-in-hand. As they headed for the mansion, Hawke looked behind the elf and brought him to a halt. "Fenris…your bum is glowing!"

"Probably the lyrium," the elf guessed with a shrug. "It will subside."

But he was wrong, my friends; the elf's little butt shone like a blue beacon until his dying day.

Back in the clinic, Blondie's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing there. Wasn't he supposed to be looking for some oil? Hadn't-

"Justice?" he asked, getting no answer from the spirit. Closing his eyes and concentrating, he willed the memory of recent events to return to him. He remembered one hand grabbing fistfuls of white hair; the feel of peachy little butt cheeks in the other. "J-Justice? What have you-"

Blondie's eyes shot open and he gasped.

"Justiiiiiiice!"


End file.
